Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)

“I’ll help.”


They worked quickly together. She was aware of him standing      next to her, taking the rinsed dishes and putting them in the ancient      dishwasher. She wiped down the counters, then wondered how she was going to      escape without having to talk. Something that turned out not to be a problem,      she thought helplessly, as he waited until she’d rinsed and dried her hands      before putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him.

She’d thought he’d try to ask her what was wrong, or, being the      kind of man he was, demand that she tell him. Instead, he leaned in and lightly      kissed her.

She could have withstood a verbal assault, she thought, feeling      the soft brush of his mouth on hers. If he’d insisted, she would have had      righteous indignation on her side. But the gentle pressure was irresistible, as      was the warmth of his fingers. He straightened and reached up to tug on one of      her braids.

“You’re the only woman I know who wears her hair like      this.”

“I know it’s not sophisticated,” she began, then wanted to slap      herself for admitting that.

“I like it, goat girl.” His dark eyes stared into hers. “I like      you.”

Enough to give up his Fool’s Gold housing empire? Enough to      tell Nina to go away? Enough to admit a sensible wife was a really stupid      idea?

“If you could have anything in the world,” she said. “Anything.      Money, fame, sixteen children who adored you, what would it be?”

He hesitated. “Can I get back to you?”

“Sure. But if you asked me that question, I would have an      answer. I want the ranch. I want to live here for the rest of my life. I want      this to be my home.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. He didn’t back away, but he      didn’t have to. His actions were enough.

* * *

ANNABELLE LAID THE OPEN BOOKS on the dirt floor. Charlie had      been by early and set up several powerful portable lights, illuminating the      uneven cave walls. Heidi shivered and zipped up her jacket.

This deep in the mountains, caves were a constant fifty      degrees. The air had a faint, musty quality to it, as if there wasn’t enough      circulation.

“You cold?” Annabelle asked.

“No. I’ve never been this far back in the caves. It’s a little      creepy.” It was also giving her a bit of a headache.

“Don’t worry,” Annabelle told her. “I have maps and a compass.      We won’t get lost.” She pulled two large plastic bags out of her backpack and      opened them. “The paint is a special blend. I found the recipe online. I took      what you bought and mixed it with a few ground-up, dried leaves and herbs.      Amazingly, my college studies didn’t cover how to fake cave paintings. When this      dries, it will look old. The trick is to paint in the style of the Máa-zib      women.”

She pointed to the books she’d brought. “These pictures are      samples to give you an idea. We don’t want to duplicate them exactly. That’s a      huge red flag.”

“Do you think we’re going to fool anyone?” Heidi asked, taking      the brush Annabelle offered.

“Not for long, but this is all about buying time. Unless you’ve      changed your mind?”

Heidi shook her head. “I appreciate you helping me with this.      If it all goes badly, I’ll swear it was my idea alone.”

“So only you go to prison?” Annabelle asked. “That’s so nice.      Thank you. I’m thinking the library board wouldn’t approve of my actions right      now.”

“You don’t think they’d be impressed with your skill and      ingenuity?” Heidi asked.

“I doubt they’d see it that way.”

Annabelle studied the photograph of the drawing. Heidi moved      next to her.

“The paintings tell a story,” she said. “We don’t want to get      that elaborate. See this one. It’s about surviving a difficult winter, and      here’s a series about a gathering. Probably to celebrate the harvest.”

She flipped the page, and they stared at a stick figure with an      obvious erection. “I’m not sure what this one is about, but we’ll skip over      it.”

Heidi grinned. “You have to admire their attitude.”

“Use men for sex, then send them on their way? It’s a sensible      plan. Men are nothing but trouble.”

She turned a few more pages. “We’ll do best with recreating a      nature scene, I think. Less challenging for us, and more confusing for anyone      who sees them.”

“So, trees on the mountain and maybe a basket?”

“Perfect,” Annabelle said, handing her a stick with a fuzzy      willow bud at the end.

“This is…”

“Your paintbrush.” Annabelle smiled. “The women of the Máa-zib      tribe couldn’t trot off to a craft store when they felt the need to be      creative.”

“Good point.”